Chapter 213: Trial Amidst the Snow

Hansha City.

A gaunt, injured man limped forward, his body hunched and battered. From a distance, he saw a small figure kneeling in the snow.

His pace quickened, dragging his wounded body step by step toward her.

Amid the swirling snow, that tiny form swayed like a frail weed in a storm—bent, battered, and barely clinging to life.

Many had noticed the girl already, some stepping forward with concern, offering help, only to be gently yet firmly turned away.

Her once-delicate face was now tinged with purple from the cold. Snowflakes clung to her lashes and brows, turning her into a sculpture of frost—a child carved from winter's sorrow.

"Qian'er… What happened? Why are you kneeling here?"

The man collapsed to his knees before her, wrapping her in his arms, trying to lift her from the ground. But the girl resisted, her eyes flashing faintly as she pulled free.

"Father… this is a test given by a senior."

She pushed his hands away and remained kneeling in the snow, unwavering.

She no longer remembered how long she'd been there. All she knew was the bitter wind and endless snow battering her body—until it felt as though the world itself had abandoned her.

"Qian'er, you…"

The man's expression shifted, guilt clouding his eyes. He looked down—and there in the snow, pure white was stained with crimson.

He stared. Her knees, long buried in the snow, looked as though they'd fused with it. Blood trailed faintly beside her, shocking in its quiet intensity.

"It's my fault… I'm useless…"

Tears fell silently, melting into the snow. Regret churned in his heart. As a father, he had failed to fulfill even the most basic duty: to protect his own daughter.

Snow lashed at them, but nothing was colder than the helplessness gnawing at his soul.

Inside a distant teahouse.

Chen Xiaoming brewed tea quietly, his gaze drifting toward the street outside. He had seen everything—the raw, wrenching bond between father and daughter. But his expression did not waver.

True, the scene could move even the hardest of hearts.

But what did it matter to him, Chen Xiaoming?

The world was filled with such tragedies, as countless as grains of sand in the sea. Was he expected to weep for every sorrow he encountered?

He was no saint.

Just as he had once chosen to walk the path of medicine, it had never been out of charity—it was for cause and effect, for the Dao, and ultimately, for himself.

He too was still bound within this great river of time, far from transcendence. He had no leisure to play savior to the world.

"…It should be about time now."

Glancing at the sky, Chen Xiaoming poured himself a cup of tea and took a leisurely sip.

It was the heart of winter. Even though the girl was at the fourth layer of Qi Condensation, she was still not much different from a mortal.

Spiritual energy could only stave off the cold for so long. At her level, she was near her limit.

In the snow-laden street

Father and daughter knelt side by side, silently enduring the cutting wind together.

The man, already grievously wounded, began to pale as the cold pierced his body. But he clenched his jaw, determined to endure.

He had failed—failed to protect his child. But if nothing else, he could suffer by her side.

"Are those two crazy? Why are they kneeling in this weather?"

"You don't know? That girl's been there for half the day and refuses to move."

"What a pity. Such a young child, and she's going to freeze to death out here."

Voices murmured with confusion and sympathy. Some kind souls had stepped forward to help, only to be refused again and again.

The determination of the pair—to freeze to death in this snow, if need be—left bystanders baffled.

"Pfft!"

Suddenly, the gaunt man coughed up blood. His body collapsed into the snow. The girl, who had been barely conscious from the cold, was jolted awake by the burst of red.

"Father! What's wrong? Father!"

She reached out in panic, trying to pull him toward her, but her arms were too short.

The man, already mortally injured, had no strength left to resist the cold. His breath faded rapidly.

"Don't scare me, Father… I'm coming!"

Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her heart ached as she stretched herself toward him, inch by inch.

But no matter how she reached, she was still a fingertip away.

She looked at her father, then at herself—and something hardened in her eyes.

Wasn't this trial meant to give her the strength to protect him?

Yet now, he teetered on the edge of death. What meaning did this test still hold?

Just as she made up her mind to rise—

A voice, deep and commanding, echoed in her ears.

"Hold on for just half a cup of tea's time, and you will become my disciple. Are you truly ready to give that up?"

It was Chen Xiaoming.

The girl paused—but only for a breath.

Even the honor of becoming the disciple of a powerful cultivator… still paled before her father's life.

"Think carefully," the voice came again, filled with temptation. "As my disciple, you'll ascend to the very peak of the heavens, looking down on all creation. Are you really going to refuse?"

She frowned, raising her head to stare into the white expanse before her.

"I refuse."

Without hesitation.

Her legs had long frozen into the earth. Rising meant ripping flesh from bone.

With a sound like tearing bark—

"Gaaah…"

She clenched her teeth, her face twisted in agony. Blood streamed down her legs as she slowly, painfully stood—using both arms and legs to push herself up.

Her limbs trembled. Her robes were torn and soaked with blood. Her legs—little more than mangled meat—were horrifying to behold.

She took a step.

Just one.

But that one step drained the last of her strength. Her awareness, already on the verge of collapse, shattered beneath the weight of agony.

She stumbled.

As she fell, she reached toward her father with bloodied hands, her eyes filled with longing.

They were close now—so close.

With that final step, she had closed the distance.

But in doing so…

She had given everything.

Just before her consciousness slipped into darkness, a shadowy figure seemed to emerge from the swirling storm—a blur within the wind and snow.

And then, a quiet sigh drifted past her ear.

"Ah... such a familiar personality."

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